State Of Panic

|One| The Hunt

When I was ten, my father took me on my first hunting trip.

He woke me up before dawn, dropping a camouflage outfit down on the edge of my bed, along with a neon orange vest.

"Willow," he said as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, "I want you to get dressed and meet me downstairs in ten minutes."

"Why?" I asked through a yawn.

"You'll see."

He left the room after that. Though tempted to throw the covers over my head and fall back asleep, I did as he asked. I slipped into the clothes he had left behind, fixing my chestnut hair in a fishtail braid down my back.

When I arrived downstairs, I found Dad in the kitchen with a coffee mug in one hand. His black hair was slicked back with gel, and the stubble he'd been sporting last night was gone. A rifle sat on the table. My eyes grew wide at the sight of it. I knew Dad worked with guns all the time. He was a hunting instructor after all. But he had always kept them locked away in his safe and the shed.

I never knew a gun could be so big. It was long and it looked downright confusing to operate.

"You were fast kiddo," Dad said, ripping my attention away from the gun.

"What are we doing?" I asked in a timid voice.

"We're going hunting. Or at least I am and you're coming along to learn."

"But... but what if I don't want to hunt?" I asked, biting my lip. The thought of hunting terrified me. Animals were my friends, and the thought of shooting Bambi made me want to cry.

He waved me over. "Come here."

I walked over to him. The smell of his coffee filled the air around me.

"Did you know that I was ten when my dad taught me how to hunt?" Dad looked at me and I shook my head. "He told me that since I hit double digits it was time to teach me some responsibility. He woke me up early and took me out into the woods. I learned a lot out there, and not all of it was about hunting. And as you can see it stuck with me. I promised him that I'd do the same with my kid when the time came."

I wasn't sure what to say. I was half-awake and still thinking about the gun on the table.

"You aren't going to kill anything today. In fact, I didn't even touch a gun until my fifth trip. You've been fishing with me before. It'll be similar to that."

"Okay, Dad. I guess we can try. But what if I don't like it?"

"Willow, look at me."

I did as he asked, meeting his blue eyes.

"I will never force you to do something you don't want to do. If you don't like it, you don't have to do it again. All I ask is that you give it a shot. Okay?" He reached out a hand and cupped my cheek.

I smiled and nodded. "Okay."

And with that, after a quick bite to eat, we were off.

The sun had just started to rise by the time we entered the woods. I could see my breath fanning out in front of me in the chilly November air. Twigs and fallen leaves crunched underneath my feet as I walked.

"Lesson one," Dad said as he stopped walking and turned to me, "gracefulness."

He pointed down at my feet.

"What's wrong with my feet?"I said a little too loud.

Placing his index finger over his lips he said, "Shh. There's nothing wrong with your feet. However, you'll scare all the deer away in a five-mile radius with the way you're stomping about. Think about each step before you take it. Take your time. One thing you learn out here is you don't have to be in a hurry."

"So like this?" I ask as I took a cautious step forward. The leaves sounded muffled underneath my shoe.

"Perfect," Dad said as a grin spread across his face.

A warm feeling spread across my chest as I looked at Dad.

Maybe hunting wouldn't be so bad after all.

...........

Years passed, and while hesitant at first, I fell in love with hunting. There was something cathartic about leaving all your troubles behind and returning to nature. I would sit for hours, listening to birds sing sweet melodies and the brook babbling off in the distance. It became a part of who I was. My heaven on Earth.

For a little while at least.

I was fifteen and it was a typical hunting day. We left before dawn and hiked up to our favorite spot. We wore our usual brown camouflage, but Dad forgot his orange vest. Last trip Dad's truck had broken down and he didn't realize he left his vest in the truck until after it had been towed away. The truck was still in the shop.

Dad taught me never to hunt without a vest, but apparently, if I repeated this back to him I was nagging.

"I'm not saying I approve of my decision, but we're already out here. I promised your mother I'd bring her home a deer today. Besides, not many people hunt in this area. I think they've noticed we've staked a claim on this place."

I sighed. "If I'd forgotten my vest you'd send me straight home."

"Well, when you're my age you can boss me around. Deal?"

I smiled and rolled my eyes. "Sure."

Hours passed, and so did my uneasiness. Dad was right, as he always was. It was just us and nature out here. No other human for miles.

"Willow, look," Dad whispered beside me in our tree stand. He pointed toward the east.

I followed his finger and saw a huge buck grazing off the grass. I raised my rifle, positioning it as I'd been taught, and took aim. But before I could get a shot off, it moved behind a tree, cutting off my line of sight.

"Dang it," I muttered, lowering the rifle.

"We can't let this one get away," Dad muttered. "I'm going to see if I can hit it from a different angle."

He lowered his weapon and climbed down the stairs of the tree stand. He quietly moved between trees. I watched him closely as he stopped and crouched. He took aim once again. After a few seconds, he gave me a thumbs up.

I raised my rifle once again and focused back on the tree the deer had hidden behind. I would be back up just in case Dad missed. Not that he would. Dad was a great shot.

Years seemed to pass as I waited for the sound of the shot. And then crack. The sound echoed off the trees. I waited with bated breath. I was just about to lower my sights and look at Dad when the deer came into view of my scope. It was uninjured and running. I followed it for a second before lining the shot up and pulling the trigger. The creature fell to the ground seconds later.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Dad did you see th--"

Dad was still crouched down, leaning against the tree. For some reason, he wasn't celebrating my shot. Or cursing his own.

"Dad?" I called out again, slipping out of the tree stand and walking over to him.

"Hey," I said, leaning down and tapping him on the shoulder.

He rolled with my touch and fell onto the ground.

It took me a minute to fully process what I'd seen.

Around Dad's chest, a dark crimson soaked his cameo. A dark red liquid trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Dad?" I whimpered, my hands trembling. I fell to my knees beside him.

His glassy eyes just stared through me.

"Dad, please wake up." Tears streamed down my face.

He didn't.

The man who'd shot him by accident found us minutes later.

That was the last time I hunted.